Chapter Four
Club life was exactly what I’d been missing, and hadn’t even realised it.
Sure, I was kept busy doing the whole tech job I had always done, but now I had a partner in crime, if you like.
I had Ice, and despite his bitching and moaning, and how much I heckled him for it, I fucking liked the guy.
I was pretty sure he adored me too, because he didn’t hide his feelings real well.
Just the other day, he punched me for spilling his coffee. That right there is love, I tell ya.
“So Torch is really fucking his doctor now? Good on him,” I said, flicking through camera feeds, as I looked for the shadowy fucker who’d been coming and going, right under our fucking noses.
The one time I got called away for mafia business, I missed the latest development in the love lives of this fucking clubhouse.
I swear, it was like a soap opera, it really was.
I mean, a guy falling for his doctor, am I right?
Mind you, look who I was sitting beside.
The guy who fell for his fucking therapist.
“Guess you can’t really say much about that, huh? You guys both use the same playbook or what?”
“Fuck you. It’s not like I went looking for Lissa.
She just happened, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing, so wipe that smug look off your face, yeah?
” Honestly, if someone made me feel the way he felt, because it was written all over his fucking face, I wouldn’t regret it either.
But then, what kind of woman would want a guy like me?
I mean, I might look like a biker, but I’m not, am I?
At some point this would come to an end, and I’d go back to trying to fit into a life that never quite felt like it belonged to me.
I was fucking amazing at my job, but the stuffiness of mafia life honestly felt like a noose around my neck at times.
“Must be weird for him to be back though, to know that someone here tried to kill him. I mean, how do you look everyone in the eye, knowing one of them literally stuck a knife in you?”
I knew what the mafia response would be, but was the biker version any different?
“Uh, what happens when we do find the cunt? He dies, right?”
Ice grimaced, keeping his eyes on the screen, but I didn’t think it was because the words on there were particularly thrilling.
“I mean, the obvious answer is yes. And he should. Whoever he is, he fucking should…” he trailed off and I frowned, abandoning the camera feeds for a second.
“But?”
Ice groaned, dragging a hand down his face, as he finally sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Chances are it’s someone we all like, love even.
A brother. Someone we saw as family, for god knows how long.
I mean, none of the newest people here are looking like the culprit, which means this person has been around us for years.
How does that happen? And how the fuck do we murder someone who’s been that close to us for so long?
I mean, I get why he should die, but the actual killing?
That’s gonna destroy us, and it’s maybe even more likely to than what he’s doing to us.
I want this resolved before someone else gets hurt, but I’m just as fucking afraid of what we’ll find. ”
He looked frustrated that he’d even given voice to his fears, at least in front of me, but as much as I could see how the mafia would handle this, I could understand that the betrayal was going to be as damaging as what had already happened, and having to turn on one of their own was going to devastate someone. Maybe many of them.
See, I’d been trying to work it out in my own mind, putting aside their feelings, because as an outsider, I had that benefit. That strength, because I didn’t have to worry about who it really was, just help find them.
There were obvious assholes here, and there were guys who seemed to be the heart of the fucking club. I had this awful feeling it was going to be the latter, just like Ice said. Someone they trusted without question, when they were the one stabbing them in the backs, in Torch’s case, literally.
It was dumb luck that I got called away for a meeting with Don Rossi a week later, and missed the fucking big reveal of who the asshole was.
And it was one of the assholes, in my opinion; Micro.
I was pissed as hell that I missed getting a few hits in, but worse than that?
It meant that my time here, this fucking holiday of sorts, was coming to an end, and you know what?
I never fucking wanted to go back to my old life.
There’s a word for that, so maybe I was more like Micro than I realised. A traitor.
Jamie
That meeting with my father felt like it had tainted everything for me.
My career, my life choices, everything. Suddenly I felt like I was a tool, if not for him, then for someone else.
I wasn’t about to risk everything by trying to sneak drugs into the prison for him, and I was just as unwilling to give up everything I’d worked for.
Hadn’t he taken enough from me over the years?
Could I really allow him to take this too?
“Fuck’s sake, Jay. You were bordering on unnecessary force there. You’re going to end up in a fucking disciplinary,” Evers hissed in my ear as we left the scene, the suspect safely ensconced in the back of the car.
“He resisted,” I practically growled at him, and he rolled his eyes at me.
“Listen to yourself. You’re trying to justify your behaviour, and you know it. All he did was ask a question, and you practically kicked his ass. You know if you left marks, we’ll have to account for those, and he could just as easily declare you were acting outside your purview.”
“Police brutality,” I grumbled, “they all try it. They all think they’ll get somewhere. This won’t be any different.”
“You punched him!” Evers hissed, pressing his palm over my door as I tried to open it.
I opened my mouth and his glare intensified. For a guy who showed so little emotion in the job, he was definitely pissed at me.
“Look, I get that something’s going on with you, and you have some kind of bee in your bonnet, but your actions affect me too.
I’m not losing my fucking pension because you get us a bad name.
Wind it in. Do what you need to, so it’s out of your system, but not when you’re on duty, and definitely not with me. Are we clear?”
Whoa, he literally just handed me my ass, and I found myself nodding silently. He was right. My beef wasn’t with him, or the force, or the fucking suspect currently whining about his bloody nose. It was with my father. No, wait. It was with crime. Criminals.
It was with every fucking scummy asshole out there who thought the law was there for others to follow, but not them. Every bastard who thought they were above the law, and arrogantly flaunted their fucking crimes, like they were badges of honour.
I stewed in the car all the way to the stationhouse, completely ignoring the other people in the car, because something just resonated with me. Crime had to be dealt with, and where were the biggest criminals in this town? That fucking motorcycle club.
If I couldn’t take it out on everyday citizens for minor crimes, I’d take down the biggest fucking criminal organisation in town, and I’d do it single handedly if I had to. Somehow, I had to show crime that it didn’t get to fucking win. Not on my watch. And you know what?
That feeling only intensified, and grew even more extreme, when I received the news that someone took a shiv to dad in prison.
A numbness set in too, because had I caused his death, with my unwillingness to stoop to a life of crime with him, or for him?
Was my lawfulness the reason he died? Whatever way you looked at it, crime was evil.
And that meant every criminal out there was the enemy.